


Switcheroo, or:  What Might Happen If You Only Get Together Because A Book of Old Prophecies Says You Will

by NotASpaceAlien



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Some mentions of sex stuff but no actual sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-26 14:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14404098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotASpaceAlien/pseuds/NotASpaceAlien
Summary: Anathema has a realisation that necessitates a breakup, and Newt reacts in the last way she expected.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Big thanks to my betas 8D Please see the tumblr post for notes about this story  
> On tumblr at http://not-a-space-alien.tumblr.com/post/173208451815/switcheroo-or-what-might-happen-if-you-only-get

 

Oh Lord, Anathema had no idea why she had waited until just before bed to do this.

It was a habit, she guessed. That was when she and Newt usually had their serious conversations.  Why, she didn’t know.  It offered an easy escape in a way; when they were finished, they could just roll over and go to sleep.  Maybe this arrangement was part of the problem.

No, she reminded herself. This wasn’t a problem.  It’s just the way it was.  There was nothing wrong with either of them.

So why did she feel so incredibly nervous as Newt appeared in the bedroom door?

He was only in his pajama bottoms, and he had a toothbrush in his mouth.  He looked at her expectantly, frozen.  It was then that Anathema realised she had been sitting on the bed staring at him, waiting for him to finish.  She quickly found something else to look at, taking a magazine from the bedside without reading it.  Newt, unable to say anything on account of having a mouth full of toothpaste, merely turned his attention back to brushing his teeth.

Anathema buried her nose in the magazine and listened to the water running in the bathroom.  She put it back when she felt the mattress dip beside her and Newt say, in a contended voice, “And there she is, my little—”

“Newt, we need to talk,” said Anathema before he could launch into a series of pet names.

Newt sat up.  “All right.  Sure.  What do you want to talk about?”

“All right,” said Anathema, arranging herself on the bed.  She faced Newt and took his hands.  

Newt looked a little alarmed by the seriousness in her voice.  “Is something wrong?”

“No,” said Anathema.  “No, nothing’s really _wrong,_ I just want to have a chat.”

“I forgot to put the toilet seat down again,” said Newt.  “Sorry, I’ll go—”

“No,” said Anathema, “no, no, it’s nothing like that.  Let’s just talk.”

“All right,” said Newt.

Anathema just sat there holding his hands for a few moments.

“About…anything in particular?” said Newt.

“Yes,” said Anathema.  “It’s about my feelings.”

“All right,” said Newt, feeling like he was already out of his depth.  “Let’s talk about our feelings.”

“Specifically, my sexual feelings.”

“All right,” said Newt, trying not to turn red.

“I’ve been giving this a lot of thought,” said Anathema.  “A-and, well, the way I see things, it—it’s—”

“You didn’t like that thing we tried last night,” said Newt.  “I knew it.  I’m really sorry.  Agh, I’m such an idiot.”

“Newt, please just listen!”

“All right,” said Newt. “I’m listening.  100% ears.  That’s me. Ears McGee.”

“Newt,” said Anathema, taking a deep breath.  “I think I’m a lesbian.”

Newt just stared at her for a few heartbeats.  Then, a faint smile began to creep onto his face.  “You mean a lesbian…ah…in what sense?”

“In the sense that I’m attracted to women.  I’m gay.”

“Well, that doesn’t necessarily make you a lesbian!” said Newt.  “I mean, I’m attracted to women, and I’m not gay or a lesbian.”

“Newt,” said Anathema.

“Okay, that was a bit of a dumb thing to say—but-but—”

“I’ve given this a _lot_ of thought, trust me.  I wouldn’t bring it up unless I was absolutely sure.”

Disappointment began to dawn on Newt’s face as he realised she was serious.  “But—but we’ve had sex.”

Anathema raised her shoulders in an “I’ve-got-nothing” gesture.

“Was I really that bad?” said Newt with growing horror.

“No, no, it’s nothing that you did.”

“Great, just great,” said Newt. “My first girlfriend, and I’m such a bad boyfriend I turn her into a lesbian.”

“No, no,” said Anathema.  “Trust me, you’re not influential enough to turn me  into anything.”

“But you’re not a lesbian if you’re attracted to men, right?  And you’re attracted to me…”

Anathema grimaced.

“You’re not attracted to me?!” Newt exclaimed.  “Then why did you want to have sex?  Wh-when we first met, it was your idea!”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Anathema.  “There was the prophecy and all that, and you seemed nice enough, and I thought you were a bit cute at the time, and…”

Newt took his hands out of hers and faced away, dangling his legs off the side of the bed.  “So that’s it, then?  You never were attracted to me?  You just didn’t _notice?_ ”

“Well, Newt,” said Anathema hesitantly, “it’s like this.  You spend your whole life mentally preparing yourself for something, in this case being together with a man, and for me especially because of the prophecy about me and the witchfinder.  And then you stop questioning whether or not that’s what you really want.  And when it happens, you think ‘Oh, this isn’t so bad,’ and since it’s tolerable, you don’t realise it’s _not what you want._ You get wrapped up in so many layers of _shoulds_ and _coulds_ you just don’t think to pay attention.”

“‘Isn’t so bad’?”

“It’s not that I didn’t enjoy it.  I didn’t _force_ myself to do any of this.  I thought I wanted it at the time, but now it’s just…not what I want.”

“I see,” said Newt.

“I can’t spend my whole life just tolerating it, Newt.  I won’t be happy in the long-run.”

“Right,” said Newt, emotion draining from his voice.  “Right, of course.  That makes sense.”

“I guess I didn’t realise until we moved in together and I started to dread coming home.  I’m…sorry I didn’t figure it out before that.”

“Yeah,” said Newt.  “I’m sorry too.”  He reached behind him and grabbed the pillow from his side of the bed. “I’ll…I’ll sleep on the couch tonight.”

“Aw, wait,” said Anathema, unsure of what she had expected.  “I didn’t say I was…”

Newt stood.  “No, no.  That’s all right.  You could have been a jerk about it, but you weren’t.  I should do the same.  So.  See you in the morning I guess.”

He walked out of the bedroom looking more dejected than he had when he thought the world was going to end.

* * *

Newt was awoken by the sound of Anathema’s alarm going off all the way in the bedroom.  He heard the duvet ruffling as she fumbled to turn it off, and it suddenly occurred to him that it would be less awkward for both of them if he made himself scarce before she came out of the bedroom.  The way she lingered in the bedroom without coming out made him suspect she felt the same way.

Newt pulled yesterday’s clothes off the easy chair where he had left them last night, then ducked into the bathroom to wash his face and straighten his hair before heading out, closing the door behind him loudly enough so that Anathema could hear him leave.

As he made his way out of the apartment building and wandered into the street, he found himself supremely grateful that they had decided to move in together in London instead of Tadfield. If they had been in Tadfield, he would have had to drive twenty minutes to get any distance away from the cottage, and he felt like he needed to be out of the house right now, out in public. And he felt like the only way to keep himself from breaking down into tears was to keep moving

How had he not seen this coming?  Was he really _that_ inattentive?  He had noticed Anathema had seemed progressively less happy as time wore on in their new shared flat, but he had figured that was because she was adjusting back to city life after living out in Tadfield for a while.  Now it made so much more sense knowing that she had been struggling the whole time to figure out how to tell him she didn’t actually like him.

Newt swung a left and took a stairwell down into a metro station, waiting for a train to come, not caring which one.

He began to worry about what Anathema thought of him, combing through his actions the previous days obsessively, imagining that Anathema must absolutely hate him, mentally destroying himself for the pet names he had been using, the little gestures of affection he had tried to give her.  She must have hated them, too.

He pulled the hood of his jacket up, suddenly feeling the weight of his every action he had taken inside of the relationship weighing on his shoulders, feeling like a scumbag.  How many times had he touched her when she hadn’t wanted it, and he hadn’t noticed, and she hadn’t said anything?

Was it because of the age gap?  Newt had hardly given it a second thought before, but now he turned it over in his mind with renewed anxiety.  Newt was well into his mid-twenties, and Anathema had just turned twenty not that long ago.  It hardly made him a pedophile, but self-conscious thoughts that maybe he had taken advantage of someone younger and naïve filled his mind.

He shook himself. Anathema?  Naïve?  He wanted to laugh at himself.  Anathema was smarter and more competent than him.  She was so much more deft at interpersonal relationships than him that she had been able to bring this up to him, and Newt hadn’t even noticed anything was wrong.

A train rolled up and a loudspeaker said its intended destination. Newt stepped on without noting where it was going, then grabbed a handrail and held on, swaying as the train moved off.

That was the problem, wasn’t it?  Newt just wasn’t good at talking to people.  Anathema had been the first woman he felt comfortable enough with to even _try_ having sex.  She got him, in a way that no one else seemed to.  She always listened to him when he started blabbing on and on about computers, even when he wasn’t any good at them, just the same way he had listened whenever she went on about leylines and prophecies and the like…

He had _never_ been good at talking to people, going all the way back to childhood.  His parents hadn’t had any patience for that, the same way they hadn’t had any patience for him blowing fuses out while trying to play with his electronics.  One of his teachers had once suggested Newt might benefit from special education, because he seemed to have sensory issues in class, but his parents had refused to entertain the notion there might be anything unusual about their son.  Then he had managed to move out on his own, and he had never really _learned_ the stuff they had failed to teach him, and he could tell it annoyed everyone around him.  Strangely, Shadwell of all people had seemed to be the most tolerant person out of the lot. (“Ah doon’t care if ye flap yer hands, lad, as long as yer huntin’ witches while ye do it.”)

Newt leaned his head into his extended arm.  Shadwell, and Anathema.  She had been perfectly understanding.  And now she was declaring herself off-limits.

 _Anathema doesn’t owe you anything,_ he said to himself.   _You don’t own her._

It didn’t quite help, no matter how much he repeated it to himself.  A lesbian?  How could you not notice that you were a lesbian?

The train slowed to a stop, and Newt took a newly vacated seat.  Among the flood of people boarding, he couldn’t help but notice a pair—a man and a woman—both wearing rainbow bands on their wrists.  He turned his eyes downwards away from them.  He felt guilty just looking at them.

The thought crossed his mind that Anathema was lying to him to get out of the relationship, but that didn’t seem right.  Anathema was assertive enough that she wouldn’t feel the need to make up something. She would just say, “Hey, I’ve decided I don’t like you anymore,” and give him the boot.

Right?

Where would she get the idea that she was a lesbian from?  Had she seen some particularly fine-looking woman on the street and suddenly thought, _Oh man, I’d like to be gay instead._

It’s not like that never happened to Newt.  He felt attraction to men on the street sometimes.  Take, for example, the man wearing the rainbow band that had just boarded the train.  Sure, whenever Newt had laid eyes on him, he had thought about how warm it would feel to be held in his strong-looking arms, and he had noticed what a splendid beard the man had.  But that didn’t make him gay.  That just happened to people sometimes.

Newt was straight, and it wasn’t fair for Anathema to just _decide_ she was gay just because she liked women.  Newt could have very well told her he was attracted to men and broken up with her if he had wanted to.

Newt was not gay.  Sure, he fantasized about men sometimes.  But he wanted to have sex with women, so that must mean he was straight.  He had genuinely enjoyed his time with Anathema, and had _thought_ she had enjoyed it, too.  How was he ever supposed to learn how to make her happy if she always faked orgasms?

God, he had been so awkward. But he _had_ enjoyed it.  He hadn’t expected to, just because of his sensory issues, but he had warmed up to it surprisingly quickly.  But there were still some issues he couldn’t quite put his finger on.  Part of him resented being expected to be in a masculine role.  Clearly Anathema was more comfortable with it.  Why did Newt have to be the one to…

His train of thought broke as the two people wearing rainbow bands broke into laughter, and he thought he heard them make a joke that ended with _I’m gay_ , which was a strange type of joke, in Newt’s opinion.

He should ask them something about this situation.  They were gay.  They’d have inside knowledge.  Maybe he could ask them how old they were when they realised they were gay.  Surely they’d answer something very, very young, and Newt would feel justified in being disgruntled that Anathema would claim she hadn’t realised until _just now_ , at twenty, while in a relationship with a man, that she was a lesbian.  Sure, Newt had had doubts too, but he knew in his heart if he weren’t straight he would have noticed by now, surely.  And so should have Anathema.  It didn’t make any sense for someone to just be gay so late in life.  Right?  

Newt got up out of his seat and crept over to the two of them.  “Ahm, excuse me,” he said, very quietly.  “I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“We’re not interested in a threesome, if that’s what you were going to ask,” said the woman.

“No, no,” said Newt.  “I just wanted to ask you about…Well, you’re both gay right?  You’re a lesbian and a gay man?”

The man scratched the back of his head.  “Well, I’m bi, technically.”

Newt stared at him.  They both stared back.  The train rocked them awkwardly.

“You’re what?” Newt said incredulously.

“Bi,” he said.  “I’m bisexual.”

Newt’s eyes widened.

* * *

Newt had been gone when Anathema had come out of the bedroom, which was probably a blessing, except it just pushed their next meeting further out and left her to stew in her anxiety.  She had decided a trip to the farmer’s market might calm her nerves, so she set out right away, fleeing their shared space.

She took her bike down from the rack on top of Newt’s car.  Newt had finally gotten a proper car, and he had insisted on putting a bike rack on top so he could chauffer Anathema and Phaeton around.  Anathema had tried to explain that she usually biked to be eco-friendly and towing it on a luggage rack defeated the purpose, but he hadn’t seemed to fully get it.  It had been a nice gesture, if a bit ill-thought-out.

She mounted Phaeton and peddled away, weaving in and out of pedestrians.  Nothing lifted her spirits quite like locally-sourced, environmentally conscious farming, and she was eager to get there.

She came back with a cloth bag filled with leaves of various kinds, along with some roots she thought might be useful for spellwork as well as dinner, and suddenly had a thought about stopping at the electronics store.  She had noticed Newt had broken his latest set of headphones, and maybe a token gesture of friendliness would help ease a bit of the vitriol she was sure was coming the next time they met.

She went home first, produce poking up from the bike’s basket.  She had left the flat quite late that morning, so the afternoon was wearing on by the time she put the vegetables away and headed back out, thankful that Newt hadn’t returned yet.  But it was a nice day, and she peddled slowly, taking a scenic route through the park, enjoying her day off.

Anathema needed some time to take care of herself and her own emotional needs.  That’s what she had decided, and yet she still felt obligated to try and coddle Newt to make this breakup as easy as possible on him. The truth was, she felt guilty. This would have been so, so much easier if Newt was an entitled jerk who just got angry at her and kicked her out, but she knew that he would just accept it and then mope about feeling sorry for himself.  He _might_ try to lodge some complaints about how he’d be lonely to try and guilt-trip Anathema, which she had already resolved not to give in to.  The freedom she had felt upon realising she didn’t have to try and picture herself with a man for the rest of her life had been immense, and she wouldn’t trade it for anything, not even the opportunity to avoid whatever row with Newt was imminent.

She had to be honest with herself, and she had to put her own happiness above Newt’s feelings.  

Anathema came into Newt’s favourite electronics shop and found a pair of headphones that seemed comparable to what Newt currently had.  She couldn’t quite remember what brand he liked—which was unfortunate because he was quite particular about that—but it seemed close enough.  She paid the teller and mounted her bike again, looping around town to go through the park again.

Still, she _did_ hope they could stay friends after this.  She had meant what she said about Newt not doing anything wrong.  It was just an unfortunate circumstance, the two of them, and their inexperience.  Maybe if Newt had been a woman, their relationship would have been viable in the long-run.  She had her doubts that Newt would want to stay in contact, though, even after the whole averting the apocalypse thing, just because it would probably be too painful.

God, he was going to mope a lot.  Anathema should probably collect her things and escape to Jasmine cottage as soon as possible.  That was the quickest out.  Newt had no other place to move to.  Unless he felt like staying the night on Shadwell’s couch, which to Anathema seemed a fate worse than death.

She thought about giving him some papers to read about compulsory heterosexuality, but she thought he probably wouldn’t quite get it.  Straight people usually didn’t.

Anathema approached the apartment building, rattling her keys and making her footsteps loud to make sure Newt heard her coming in case he was home again.

She opened the door, bag with the headphones crinkling, and then froze when she heard the voice of a man she did not recognize from somewhere in the darkened flat.

“Whoops.”

There was the sound of something shattering in the kitchen.

“Don’t worry about that,” Newt’s voice drifted out from the kitchen, low and oddly intense.

“H-hello?” said Anathema, moving further in, holding her keys out ready to use as a weapon.

“A-Anathema!” said Newt’s voice, breaking into high-pitched.

Anathema flicked the lights on and peered into the kitchen.  Newt was sitting on the counter with his legs wrapped around the waist of a man who had apparently been leaning in to snog him.  A broken plate that the two of them had knocked off the counter lay in three pieces on the floor.

Anathema dropped her bag.

“Oh, h-hey, Anathema,” said Newt. The man, who it looked like had been trying to unbuckle Newt’s pants, tried to turn around, but Newt had a death-grip on him and did not let go.  “Didn’t expect you home so soon!”

“What…What is _this?_ ” said Anathema.

The unknown man tried to turn around again, but Newt tugged at him to keep him in place.  “Yeah, all right, so I gave this some thought, and I’ve decided that I am, uh, bisexual.  As you can see.  So, if you’d be so kind as to, uh give us some _privacy…_ ”

“Who’s this?” said the man, sounding very nervous.

“Just my roommate,” said Newt.

“ _Roommate?_ ” said Anathema.  “We haven’t even officially broken up yet!”

“Oh, come off it, Anathema,” said Newt.  “You’re a lesbian and I’m a man.  I know how to take a hint.”

“You just…realised you were bisexual at the exact same time I realised I was a lesbian?  And then you _immediately_ hooked up with a man and brought him back to our flat?  Are you trying to get back at me?  Make fun of me?”

“No, no, no,” said Newt, and he finally released the man he had been snogging and slid off the counter. “I just, ah…didn’t realise until, I suppose, your realising made me realise…”

“Oh,” said Anathema.

All three of them stood there in silence.

“Did you expect me to just mope about the entire time, then?” said Newt.

“…No,” said Anathema, after far too long of a pause for anyone to believe it was the truth.

“Well,” said Newt, “I may be shy, and awkward, and a loser.  But I’m a shy, awkward loser _who’s also bisexual_.  And frankly I think I may prefer men!”

Anathema looked down at her feet. A flush spread across her cheeks. Then she broke into outraged laughter.

“A-Anathema?”

She turned her face towards the ceiling.  “Is this your idea of a joke?  You prophecy we sleep together and then it turns out we could have been enjoying ourselves this whole time?”

Newt wrung his hands.  The man he had been snogging started to back away.

“I’m right pissed at you!” said Anathema. “Destiny—Fate—Prophecy—Whatever you want to call it!  You have some nerve!”

“I think I should be going,” said the man.

“No, don’t go,” said Newt, who seemed disappointed his partner hadn’t kept his hands in Newt’s pants despite the new arrival.  “Anathema can…text me later about this.”

Anathema was absolutely fuming. She stomped out of the kitchen into the study, rifling through her bookshelf.  She hadn’t referenced _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies_ nor its card index for years, since it was all outdated after the Almostpocalypse.  But now she burned with the kind of petty, vindictive anger that accompanied people who typed at strangers on the internet because they were _wrong._

She pulled out the prophecy she had shown Newt that implied they had become an item.  The one she had taken to mean she would end up with this mysterious witchfinder who turned out to be Newt.

_Lette the wheel of_

_Fate turne, let harts en-_

_join, there are othere fyres than mine; when the wynd blowethe the blossoms,_

_reach oute one to anothere, for the calm_

_cometh when Redde and_

_Whyte and Blacke and_

_Pale approche to Peas is_

_Our Professioune_

“Hearts enjoin,” scoffed Anathema.  “Other fyres?  You expect me to believe you were talking about Newt and I being _friends?_  A fyre?”

Well, there _had_ been a fire.  Not a symbolic fire, a literal one.  Someone had shown up with a car on fire that fateful day as the wheel of fate turned, as Newt and Anathema “joined their hearts.”  It couldn’t have been referring to that.  Could it?

Anathema sat there angrily rubbing the page between her fingers, tugging on it. Agnes must have known this would happen, that Anathema would decide she didn’t want to be with Newt anymore. There had been that prophecy that they would only hook up once, but then everything had gotten off track after Armageddon, and that had ended up going out the window along with everything about the horsemen and the seals and all that…

Anathema could still hear Newt and his guest murmuring unsurely to each other in the kitchen, but she ignored them.  “Agh!” she said, resisting the urge to tear a page out in frustration. “Agnes, why did you have to do this? Why did you have to have your fingers in _everything_ up to and including my sex life?  …Oh god, no no no, that was a bad analogy, I take it back…”

Anathema stopped.  Her rubbing had split the page apart.  No, not split it apart…

The two pages had been stuck together?

Anathema watched in amazement as the wafer-thin pages peeled apart under her prodding. She had never dared be so rough with the book before; she had been too afraid of damaging it until the prophecies had come to pass and rendered the volume useless.  She had grown bolder with it in recent years.

A new page fell open, of prophecies long past yet unseen to her eyes.  A quick scan revealed this page had definitely been missed when she had made her card index.

Her mouth dropped open.  “No way,” she said incredulously.  “No _way._ ”

She had paid more attention to the card index than the book itself, because she had been so afraid of damaging it.  It was _so_ old.  It was the kind of thing you didn’t touch unless you had good reason to.  She had assumed she had explored every inch of it already, but....

The prophecies may be useless now, but this had historical implications.  Her relationship troubles forgotten, Anathema’s hand snapped to a pen and got ready to take notes.

“No wonder nothing seemed to make sense,” said Anathema, already scribbling things down at top speed.  “We were missing a piece of the puzzle.”

A pity this was coming too late.  Maybe they could have headed off Armageddon with plenty of wiggle room rather than by the skin of their teeth, and they could have—

The very first prophecy on the new page read:

_Hearts entwined be ye destiney, Anathema,_

_Though flesh naught at the end_

_For no fyre burns as bright as_

_Friendships forged under duress_

_The Serpente aflame, prophetess entwixed with angel_

_Witch and Witchfinder_

_And the four, growing ever closer_

_Ye all shall meet again_

Newt and his date had gone back to tentatively making out, but they were interrupted by a furious scream and the sound of a book being hurled across the flat.  Newt watched in amazement as _The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch_ flew out and smacked against the wall, where it sadly collapsed into a heap of disorganised papers and binding on the floor.

“Anathema?” said Newt.  “Is everything all right?”

“I hate you, you old bat!” Anathema yelled, stomping back out into the living room. “If you weren’t already several hundred years dead, I’d strangle you!”

Newt and his date watched fearfully as Anathema yanked her coat on, zipping it up.

“Where are you going?” said Newt.

“I’m going to get laid!” Anathema shouted, slamming the door behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on tumblr at http://not-a-space-alien.tumblr.com/post/173276765570/switcheroo-or-etc-part-2

Anathema decided to take the train this time, because no matter how eco-friendly it was, you didn’t look cool pulling up to a club on a bike.

Clubs had never really been Anathema’s thing.  She didn’t drink much, and she didn’t like the noise and wild energy of those places. Being able to feel other people’s auras meant that large crowds were overwhelming to her senses in more ways than usual.

It was still early enough that it wasn’t too crowded yet, though.  Anathema skipped the dance floor entirely and headed for the bar.

She took a seat, and immediately a man who had been sitting two seats away slid over to her.  “Hi there.”

“Hi,” said Anathema.  “And I’m sorry to be brusque, because it’s nice of you to want to chat, but this is a gay bar, and I’m interested in women.”

The man’s face went beet red. “I-I thought you were a man.”

“No, I’m not a man!” said Anathema, annoyed.

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry too.”

Slowly, the man slid away, looking like he was trying to fade into the wallpaper.

Anathema couldn’t help feeling a little smug.  It felt really good to be able to tell off men trying to hit on her without having to think up some excuse.

She leaned over, trying to get the attention of a woman sitting on a barstool to her left. “Hello there,” she said.  “Excuse me.”

The woman turned to look at her.

“I’m interested in women.”

The woman’s eyes swept her up and down, her eyebrows rose, and she nodded as though Anathema had sprouted a third eye.  Anathema watched as her aura turned from a piqued blue to a dim grey, and she realised that wasn’t the appropriate way to start a conversation with someone, even if you were both gay.

The woman slid down a few seats away from Anathema.

“Okay, steady, Anathema,” she said to herself.  “You can’t just walk up to women and say you’re gay and expect them to immediately say, ‘Hey, I’m gay too!  Let’s make out!  Let’s go back to my place and make out on my countertop while my ex-girlfriend walks in on us!  How did he _do_ it?  How come _he_ can just—”

Anathema stopped as the bartender came over and asked her if she wanted anything, not without a certain amount of concern.  She realised her monologue had been gradually increasing in volume.

“I’ll have something fruity,” said Anathema.  “Please.”

The server moved off to make it for her.  Anathema sat there wondering if she was supposed to approach someone or wait for someone else to come to her and, if the latter, how any lesbian got anything done at all.

She should make the first move, but then back off and let the other girl lead from there.  In case the advances were unwanted.  She didn’t want to be creepy.

The bartender came back and gave her a cocktail glass with salt on the brim garnished with a little paper umbrella.  Anathema took it and looked around for a target.

She eventually settled on a lone woman at the end of the bar, who already appeared to be into her third drink.  She had a rainbow armband on her wrist, and she had short silver hair, which seemed odd because she didn’t look that old.

Anathema sipped her margarita, then winced as she remembered why she didn’t usually drink.  When the stool next to the woman she had zeroed in on opened up, Anathema leapt up and made her way over.

“Next one’s on me,” said Anathema, setting her margarita on the counter.

The woman looked over at her and smiled shyly.  Anathema winked, then immediately felt like she had overstepped a boundary.

“My friend dragged me here to act as his wingman,” the other woman said, diffusing the nervousness instantly.  “But he ended up hooking up with some bloke on the train here.  Figures.”

“That fast, huh?” said Anathema. “He must be a stud.”

She snorted and lifted her drink back to her lips.

“So what’s your name?” said Anathema.

“Letitia,” the silver-haired woman answered, with another sip of beer.

“Nice name,” said Anathema.

“You think so?” said Letitia. “People usually think it’s archaic. Old-fashioned.”

Anathema stirred her drink with the paper umbrella, imagining sex involving silicone and nylon straps and her having a satisfying orgasm for once.  “Some people are into that.”

* * *

They ended up talking for forty-five minutes.  They turned out to have a lot in common.  Letitia, it turned out, had done a thesis on a feminist analysis of the films of Sergio Leone, which Anathema nodded and listened to, and Letitia listened to Anathema talk about leylines and healing crystals and the like.

One of the things they had in common was that they thought the other’s chosen field of study was dreadfully boring.  Another was that they were both too tactful to say so aloud.

They had both also dated men before realising they weren’t attracted to men.

Anathema asked if Letitia wanted to get out of here.  Letitia agreed, but said her place was a mess, so they should head back to Anathema’s.

Newt wasn’t home when they arrived.  Anathema wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or disappointed for that.  Part of her wanted to rub it in Newt’s face that she could find someone just as fast as him, but deep down she knew it would have just been awkward and ruined things.

They ended up curling up next to each other on the couch and watching something from Letitia’s list of Netflix recommendations.  Letitia had a lot to say about it afterwards, but Anathema had fallen asleep halfway through it and tried to keep her own analysis vague and encourage Letitia to talk instead.

She grew increasingly frustrated as the date wore on into the evening.  She didn’t feel a… _spark_ between the two of them.  Like she had felt with Newt.  Which was absurd, because she wasn’t attracted to Newt, and she _was_ attracted to Letitia, and it really felt like if she was going to have an instant connection to someone, it should be her and not him.

Wait a minute…what was she thinking?  She and Newt had hooked up during _Armageddon._  They had both thought they were going to die.  They had been desperately racing to save the world.  Of course it would be hard to replace something like that, bonds forged in the flames of facing adversity together.

That’s what she needed with Letitia, some adventure that would make them bond.  And she knew just what to do.

* * *

They had to take a taxi to Tadfield, because the tube didn’t run that far out into the country and Anathema didn’t have a car.  It was a bit of a lame start to their adventure, but the taxi dropped them off at the foot of the hill leading up to the airbase.

Letitia looked nervous as Anathema started the walk up the hill.  “Are you sure we’re allowed to go in there?”

“Oh, we’re absolutely not,” said Anathema.  “We wouldn’t get in trouble otherwise, and that’s the point.”

“But…there’s a fence and stuff.”

There was indeed a fence and stuff.  The fence was six feet tall.  The stuff was razor wire rolled around its top.

“We can go around back,” said Anathema.  “There’s a tree that’s fallen on the fence and knocked down enough that you can get through.”

“Really?  How do you know that?”

“This is where Armageddon was supposed to happen, before I stopped it.”

Letitia slowed her pace and suddenly looked unsure that she wouldn’t be murdered.  “And we’re…doing what here?”

“We’re just going to make sure everything’s still quiet here,” said Anathema, who was hoping that everything wasn’t.

Letitia seemed nervous but nonetheless complied with Anathema’s request to hop over the tree and follow her into the no-man’s land between the fence and the airbase.

There was not a soul in sight. All the windows were dark; most of them were broken, and there was ivy growing on the side of the building.

“Looks like nobody’s been here for a while,” said Letitia.

“They’ve abandoned it?” said Anathema.  “I wonder why.”

Anathema took out the torch she had brought and shined it at the entrance.  The door hung from its hinges, creaking ominously.

“All right, now it’s a proper adventure,” said Anathema.

The door was already open wide enough to walk through, but Anathema kicked it down just for the thrill of it.

She had never seen the lobby before, because she and Newt had gone in through a back entrance.  A huge desk strewn with dated papers squatted like a hunched animal in the darkness.  Bugs fluttered to escape her light when she waved the torch over it.

“Come on,” said Anathema, excitement growing.

She grabbed Letitia’s hand and pulled her out of the lobby into a hallway, which if memory served, should lead them to the room with all the electronics where they had done the fateful deed to save the earth.

The hallway was partially blocked by an ajar door, and Anathema was about to pass it without incident when she noticed the smell.

“Ew,” said Letitia, crinkling her nose.  “What’s that?”

Anathema turned ninety degrees and shined the torch into the room.

Her heart leapt into her throat as the light cast distorted, angular shadows from ten claw-like appendages, curling up from something bloating and covered in flies and horrible.

Anathema and Letitia both jumped back and screamed.  Anathema had to stare at what she was seeing for a full twenty seconds before she realised she was looking at a dead buck.

“Oh,” said Letitia. “Ha.  It’s just a deer.”

“Must have wandered in here to die,” said Anathema.  There was no obvious wounds or cause of death.  “Poor thing.”

Anathema gingerly pushed the door shut and led Letitia further in.

“Anathema, I think maybe we should head back out,” said Letitia, a tremor in her voice, and Anathema felt fingers curling around her arm.  “I don’t know if this is safe.”

“Aw, you don’t need to worry—” Anathema began, but she stopped dead when she heard voices echoing further down the hallway.

“Wh-who’s that?” said Letitia.

Anathema grabbed Letitia’s hand and bolted back towards the entrance.  She heard something clatter down the hallway, as though someone had knocked something over, and a familiar voice echoed out _Ow!_

“Wait,” said Anathema, stopping at the cusp of the lobby.  She turned back and shined the torch towards the source of the noise.

It fell on Newton Pulsifer, who was likewise shining a light back on her.

“Newt?” Anathema exclaimed.

“Anathema?” Newt said.

“Letitia?” said a second man, appearing behind Newt.

“Jim?” said Letitia.

All four of them stood in awkward silence for a moment, shining their lights on each other.

Anathema picked her way back down the darkened hallway.  “What are _you_ doing here?”

“I’m having a life-changing adventure over here,” said Newt.  “Which you’re kind of getting in the way of, if you don’t mind.”

“ _I’m_ in the way?” said Anathema.  “I had that idea first!  I was already here on a date with _my new girlfriend_ ,” said Anathema, motioning to Letitia behind her, ignoring Letitia’s _That’s moving a little fast, don’t you think?_

“Yeah, well, I’m just here to hang out with _my boyfriend,_ ” said Newt, pulling Jim up by the wrist, who protested quietly that he had just expected a one-time thing.

“You were here looking for trouble!” said Anathema, her light jiggling angrily as she gestured wildly.

“Yeah, well, so were you!”

“I was here first!  This is my adventure!  Find your own!”

Jim and Letitia had started to creep backwards away.

“Oh-ho-ho,” said Newt, leaning back and shining his light into an adjacent room, then twisting and looking the other way.  “I’m sorry, is your name on this building somewhere?  I didn’t see it, must have missed the sign that said ‘Open for adventures to Anathema Device only!’”

Anathema froze.

“What?” said Newt.  “Was that too mean?  I’m sorry.”

“Newt, I feel something,” said Anathema, suddenly extremely alarmed.  An aura had just come into her field of detection, something huge and infernal and frenzied with wild emotions.

“What?” said Newt.  “What is it?”

“It’s….something from Hell,” said Anathema.  “And it knows it’s not supposed to be here, doing something it’s not supposed to be doing.”

“Shite,” said Newt.  “Do we have to fight Satan?  The four horsemen?  A demon?”

Anathema groped around in her coat for her bread knife and took it out.  Letitia and Jim, sensing the alarm in their voices, crept back towards them and asked what was wrong.

“Supernatural stuff,” said Anathema, who could not help but wish she hadn’t come despite the fact that this was exactly what she had come here seeking out.

Letitia and Jim looked at each other.

“Where’s it coming from?” said Newt, with the tone of a soldier ready for orders.

“I don’t know,” said Anathema. “It’s….It’s so big, I can’t tell where it is.”

“Hold on a second,” said Newt.  He disappeared into the room he had peeked into before and re-emerged with a tire iron a moment later.

“Where did that come from?” said Anathema.

“Dunno,” said Newt.  “Just lying around. But it’s got a good heft to it.  Reckon it could break someone’s nose.”

Anathema suddenly felt very silly.  They wouldn’t be able to stop anything with an aura that size with weapons like a tire iron and a breadknife.

“We can try, at least,” said Anathema, and Newt seemed to understand exactly what she meant.

He grabbed her arm.  “We’re not going to die here.  Let’s get out of here before it finds us.”

“What is it?” said Jim. “What did you see?”

“I haven’t seen it yet,” said Anathema.  “But I feel it?”

“What?” said Jim skeptically.  

“Jim, just be quiet,” said Newt.  “Anathema knows what she’s talking about.”

Jim, disgruntled, fell into step behind Newt.

Newt held the tire iron out in front of him with one hand and shined the torch in the other, leading the way back towards the front entrance.

“But what’s going on?” said Letitia, tugging at Anathema’s sleeve. “I don’t understand.”

“Don’t talk so loud,” Anathema whispered.  “It might hear us.”

“But what is _it?_ ”

“I don’t know, I just felt something.”

Letitia looked at her doubtfully.

Newt paused at the entrance to the lobby, shining the light all around.  There didn’t seem to be anything visible nearby, but Anathema felt the red-hot aura more intensely here than anywhere else.

The entrance was still cracked open.

“Let’s run for it,” said Newt.

Anathema nodded.

Newt and Anathema dashed out simultaneously, booking it for the exit.

Something in a closet door crashed and rattled.

Anathema and Newt paused with one hand each on the door, looking back.

Letitia had pulled open a janitor’s closet in the wall to reveal two people in it, tangled up in moldy mops and dusty brooms and each other.

Anathema, flabbergasted, came over.  “A-Adam?”

Adam pushed away the other person in the closet, who happened to be his friend Wensleydale.  “A-Anathema?”

“What are you doing here?” said Anathema, shining her light in his face.

“We-We weren’t doing anything,” said Adam, bright red.

Anathema looked between the two of them, noting the way they were both flushed and panting.

“Please don’t tell my dad,” said Adam, panicked.  “I’m not out yet.”

“Me neither,” said Wensleydale. “My Dad’s homophobic.”

All four adults stared at the two teenagers.  Newt started laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Adam demanded.

“She’s gay,” said Newt. “I’m gay.   _You’re_ gay.  Is anyone _else_ gay?  Might as well get it out now.”

Wensleydale slowly raised his hand.

“Technically I’m bisexual,” said Adam sheepishly.

All six of them stood there, torches illuminating dust motes bobbing in the darkness.

* * *

Newt was on the doorstep unlocking the flat when Anathema met back up with him.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” said Anathema, without malice.

Newt fiddled with his keys and said, “He, ah, wasn’t interested in a second date.”

“Oh,” said Anathema. “That’s too bad.”

“Yours?”

“Same,” said Anathema, grimacing. “I think we, uh…scared them off with that little stunt at the airbase.”

“Yeah,” said Newt, rubbing his arm.

“Looks like we just have each other now.”

“Yeah.”

They looked at each other and smiled.

“We make a good team,” said Anathema.

“…just not a good couple,” said Newt.

“…yeah.”

Anathema tapped her key in her hand.  “You know…I saw an advert for a nice two-bedroom flat over in Mayfair.  It’s only fifteen minutes on the tubes to your work.”

“Yeah?” said Newt, perking up.

“What do you think?” said Anathema.  “We could be roommates for real?”

Newt smiled.  “Only if you promise you’ll clear the house when I bring someone over.”

“Deal,” said Anathema.  “You think you’re that much of a stud, huh? You’ll have boys over so often I’ll never be able to be home?”

New punched her in the arm as she opened the door.  “I guess we’ll just have to work around each other’s schedules, since I’m sure you’ll be bringing tons of ladies home now.”

“Hah!” said Anathema.  “You have to promise to drive all of us to the farmer’s market.”

“Deal.”


End file.
